


Time

by lokiloo



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Post Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-17
Updated: 2012-01-17
Packaged: 2017-10-29 17:01:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/322123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokiloo/pseuds/lokiloo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is 8 months, 9 days, 13 hours and 57 minutes since Sherlock Holmes has died.</p><p>Not that anyone is timing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time

**Author's Note:**

> It has been said, 'time heals all wounds.' I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone. -Rose Kennedy, US wife of Joseph Patrick Kennedy Sr.

It’s second nature. He’ll be doing something mundane- washing the dishes, making tea, reading the paper- and it comes out. Even after all this time, it still comes out.

“Sherlock, where are the eyeballs?”

“Sherlock, you haven’t anything to do with this headline, do you?”

“Sherlock have you eaten today?”

“Sherlock-“

 

It takes 3.4 seconds to remember he’s gone.

 

Every time.

 

It is 1 month, 3 days, 7 hours and 46 minutes since Sherlock Holmes has died.

Not that anyone is timing.

 

John has a routine now. He’s always had them, even when Sherlock has been here, so that doesn’t change. It is, of course, the routines themselves that do.

At 6:40 every morning, John gets up.

At roughly 7, he’s out of the shower and dressed.

By 7:45 he has eaten, stepped outside, and headed off to work at the surgery.

This is his morning routine for about a year after the...the incident.

 

-Well, no, that’s not exactly true.

 

At 7:30 AM, every morning, John sends one text.

 

I miss you.  
-JW

 

At 7:31 AM, every morning, John receives one text.

 

Error invalid number. Please re-send using a valid 10 digit mobile number or valid short code.

 

It is 3 months, 1 day, 23 hours and 14 minutes since Sherlock Holmes has died.

Not that anyone is timing.

 

2 days, 14 hours and 45 minutes after Sherlock is pronounced dead, there is a funeral. It’s a calm affair. Closed to the media –Mycroft had been adamant to that, at least. The only people attending are some relatives.

-That isn’t true, actually. Lestrade is here, and so is Mrs. Hudson of course.

And John.

 

For 2 hours and 12 minutes, John sits completely still, watching a closed casket. For another 34 minutes afterwards, he meets a couple of Sherlock’s relatives. An Aunt from Russia who looks like a movie star. A cousin living in Trinidad as a wildlife researcher. A great-uncle who served as an ambassador to South Korea.

He meets Sherlock’s mum. She’s small and thin, eyes blue as ice and hair curly as all get out.

“You’re John.” She states. John nods, and before he can even speak she’s hugging him.

“I’m sorry.” She says, and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t teared up.

“I’m the one who should be saying sorry, Mrs. Holmes.”

She pulls away to give him a measuring stare, her eyes no stranger to tears either.

“No you don't.”

 

John supposes no, he doesn't.

 

It takes 21 minutes to put Sherlock into the ground.

It takes the attendants another 17 minutes to cover the coffin in dirt.

57 minutes after they started, John is the only one left at the grave.

He stays until well after sunset.

 

He forgets to count.

 

It is 4 months, 18 days, 2 hours and 5 minutes since Sherlock Holmes has died.

Not that anyone is timing.

 

John gets home at about 5:45 every Tuesday and Thursday, and around 7:15 every other day. He has Sundays and Mondays off.

Dinner time varies on recipes. It never takes more than an hour and a half, however.

He sits to eat for around 30 minutes. It takes roughly 7 to clean up.

He sits down to watch the news.

“-ro Church protesting the former detective for his supposed homose-“

“-umored that Holmes was about to be charged wit-“

“-exclusive interview with a schoolmate of Sherlo-“

 

It’s 5.6 seconds till he turns it off.

 

3 minutes to brush his teeth.

Another 3 to get changed.

2 minutes to shuffle upstairs.

Enter room, lay down in bed; 53 seconds.

Spend 14 minutes and 27 seconds lying awake.

Get out of bed, exit room in 55 seconds.

A minute and 18 second to get downstairs.

1 to enter Sherlock’s bedroom and lay down.

7 minutes till he falls asleep, clutching a pillow and staying on one side of the bed- one side that had never been used before.

Rinse.

Repeat.

 

It is 9 months, 6 days, 14 hours and 11 minutes since Sherlock Holmes has died.

Not that anyone is timing.

 

All John can do is count.

Count the seconds it takes for the water to boil.

Count how long a bird’s song is.

Count how many hours he spends talking to a skull, wishing, hoping, pretending it was something other than a replacement, a lie.

All John can do is count.

 

He’s gotten so good at counting. He rarely needs to see his watch.

He knows time like the back of his hand.

Anyone could ask; he’d give it in a heartbeat. It’s better though, that no one does- it’s better that no one knows.

 

It's a bit ironic, isn't it; the only reason he has this talent, the only reason he's any special, is Sherlock.

 

It’s 4:56 on a Wednesday afternoon. He knows this, because that means it’s been 1 year, no months, 4 hours, 18 minutes and 29 seconds since John lost everything.

11 minutes on the bus.

2 to walk down the street.

Turn, walk left.

Stop. Close eyes. Brace for impact.

Open eyes.

There, that same spot. Always.

John stares.

He forgets to count.

 

2 months, 3 hours, 39 minutes since Sherlock Holmes has died.

8 months, 21 hours, 3 minutes since Sherlock Holmes has died.

1 month, 1 year, 1000, it doesn’t matter. Sherlock Holmes has died.

 

It’s 17 minutes to get home.

16 seconds to unlock the flat.

2 minutes to shuffle up the stairs.

Another 10 seconds to open the door.

17 to lock it behind him.

Turn around.

“John.”

Sherlock Holmes stands before him.

John forgets to count.


End file.
